Mama Africa

There is something to be said for Africa.  If you are a child of Africa, you will know that you take Africa deep inside of you - she becomes part of your soul.  It manifests as a lump in your throat  when you stumble across something from that beautiful continent.  I am sometimes reminded of this blood tie to my fatherland at the most unexpected times.

This weekend I visited the South African shop down the road to stock up on one or two items I particularly missed from South Africa.  The shop was closed but I am grateful.  As a result, I stood sulkily in front of the window and happened to notice some Ndebele dolls in the window.  Imagine that - Ndebele dolls in Sydney!  It brought a lump to my throat and reminded me of a very special woman who looked after me as a child.  Martha was a rotund Ndebele woman.  She was warm and loving and gave the best hugs in the world. For some reason, she always smelled like freshly baked bread. She knew exactly how I liked my toast in the mornings and would wait for me to come home after school.  I remember her with great fondness.  

She was as firm as she was loving.  I never took chances with her.  She had a stern look that would convey volumes in silence.  My fondest memories of her are sitting with her to sort her beads according to colour in the last hour of the day before my mother returned from work.  As a Ndebele woman she was a master beader and I was fascinated at the way in which she would create the most amazing colourful patterns with the tiny glass beads.

These traditional dolls have become a sought after export and provide income for many Ndebele women in Africa at the moment.  But they have a rich cultural significance. A young man who wishes to court a woman, will place a doll outside her door.  These dolls signify significant moments in women's lives.  For me, they remind me of Martha - a loving mother figure from my childhood.  

Africa is in my blood, and when I see icons of her like this I feel her stir in my soul.  South Africa has a rugged beauty that she imprints on all her children at birth.  I think it is something in the sunshine or walking around barefoot in her soil as a child. Mama Africa, I will always love you. 

Life in my Kaleidoscope

Into the Light - Debbie Le Roux 2011 - Aquarelle on board.

As a child, one of my favourite toys was a kaleidoscope which I received as a birthday 
gift from a friend. I spent hours looking at the pretty colours, turning it continuously to create new ones.

I think life is a lot like looking at the world through a kaleidoscope. We all see colourful elements - shiny bits and pieces. But unless you turn to the light, a kaleidoscope is a dull tube that makes a rattling sound when you shake it.  It is only when you look upwards, into the light that you see the incredible beauty and brilliance of colours waiting to be discovered.  

There is something magic in colour.  I have always found painting or working with colours 

to be therapeutic in some way.  This weekend's doodle (as above)  is about moving into the light, even if the road ahead looms foreboding and appears to be uphill and rocky.  No matter how shattered the reality may appear at the moment, the sun will rise again. Look to the light and you will find beauty in your fragmented kaleidoscope.   When you do you will not only find beauty, but you will also find friends  who want to see the picture in your kaleidoscope. I'm deeply grateful that I have always had friends who walk the path into the light with me as I reassemble the fragments of my kaleidoscope to find new and beautiful images just a turn away.  


We all have shards and fragments to deal with in our realities. It is up to you to reassemble those floating bits and pieces into an enticing new possibility.  

A lover in fragments

I realised this morning that a lover exists only in fragments, a dozen or so if the romance is new, and a few a thousand after a few years together. Out of those fragments our heart constructs an entire person. We create the person we wish them to be. The less we know of them, the more we love them.  The converse is also true... the more fragments you have, the clearer the image.  It is only then, that you really know who they are.  If you still love them then it is real.